


Dangerous Nights

by ccwonder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, F/M, Law School! AU, M/M, Stanford Student Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccwonder/pseuds/ccwonder
Summary: Castiel is a law student at Stanford Universtiy and has mastered the art of running away from life. However, when he meets Dean Winchester, everything begins to change.





	1. Chapter 1

Love is pointless.

As much as Castiel hates it, that fact is the only one he can think about as he watches his brother parade his newly acquired fiance into the crowded banquet hall. Others around him are clapping, but he stares down into his whiskey and does his best to avoid the gaze of the happy couple. Even the alcohol isn’t enough to dull the occasion though; even after they’re asked to sit, he’s forced to suffer through two separate speeches and a number of insufferable engagement jokes before lunch is finally served.

He does his best to keep his mouth full and avoid uncomfortable small talk with his family, but even his best attempts at appearing busy are thwarted when his mother appears at the table, an arm linked with his brother and future sister in law. Mother seems to have a sixth sense for making Castiel in particular uncomfortable, as she avoids the number of other children whom she birthed at the table around him and instead drags the happy couple to stand directly behind Castiel. He peers awkwardly over his shoulder best he can and does his best to smile, but his whiskey has vanished by now and had he possessed that liquid courage he may be measurably more believable. 

“Castiel,” Mother croons, releasing her hold on the couple beside her and cupping Castiel’s face in her too-cold hands. “I’m so happy you could make it,” 

“Well, you did harass me, Mother,” Castiel flinches away from her chilly grip, but she clings tighter. 

“It means so much to Michael that you could come,” She continues, and Castiel can see his brother nodding over his mother’s shoulder. “Teresa, too-- doesn’t she look beautiful?” 

She finally relinquishes her hold and steps aside so Castiel can note Teresa standing alongside Michael. Her dark hair is pinned back in a neat bun, even darker dress hugging her figure. Castiel does his best not to stare any longer than could be considered appropriate, avoiding Teresa’s gaze and instead meeting Michael’s.

“Beautiful,” He agrees with his mother, and Michael gives him a firm nod. It’s the response he was looking for, then. Mother seems pleased, as she’s quickly lost interest and is fluttering around the table greeting Castiel’s countless brothers and sisters. 

“Could you excuse me?” Castiel’s eyes are still on Michael as Teresa quickly makes her way to another table, engaging with other guests. Castiel stands, facing his brother now. Michael is a head taller, three years older, and built like an ox, but they stare each other down like equals.

“I am glad you decided to show,” Michael says after a few silent moments pass between them. 

“You know I didn’t come for you,” Castiel keeps his voice intentionally low. Everyone around them is seemingly engaged, but he never knows with his family.

“I know,” Michael’s tone sharpens, but he quickly corrects himself and his next words are more measured. “It means a lot to her and to Mother,”

“Suppose you would have rather I stayed away?” Castiel snorts, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t know where you get off being so bitter,” Michael’s tone tells Castiel that he’s going to cross a line before the words even leave his mouth. “You’re the one who left, Castiel. So suck it up and deal with the consequences of your actions,”

Castiel doesn’t remember much between the time he breaks Michael’s nose and when he’s stepping off an airplane later that night with a lingering warning from his mother not to return for the wedding.  
All things considered, it was a better visit than usual.

When he shoulders his way into his apartment after a too-long taxi ride back from the airport, it’s almost a physical relief. He yanks the key from the lock and kicks the door shut behind him, squinting in the darkness as he heads for the bedroom and drops his bag on his bed. It’s cold and quiet and just how Castiel likes it, and every bone in his body aches for sleep-- but his trip home for the weekend has put him behind, and he’s got work to catch up on.

In typical fashion, he runs through the shower and then retires to his miniscule living room to work until dawn. Once the sun has risen, he grabs a breakfast bar and his bag and heads out the door. It’s not a long walk to class and the California sun is pleasant so Castiel takes his time, trying his best not to think about the events of the weekend. It doesn’t do him much good; he can still feel the crunch of Michael’s nose under his fist and hear Teresa’s horrified gasp. He can see the blood staining Michael’s shirt, see Teresa’s soft hands _all over him_ , so concerned, so tender--

“Castiel!” 

Reality rushes back to his senses, and he realizes he’s crushed his breakfast bar in his hand. He picks out a relatively unscathed chunk and tosses the rest onto the sidewalk for the birds, turning towards whoever had called him back from his absent-minded dwellings. It’s not hard to spot the behemoth where he’s jogging to catch up, long floppy hair bouncing with each stride.  
“Sam,” Castiel smiles at his friend, genuinely pleased with the interruption.

“Hey, man,” Sam slows down to match Castiel’s stride, the two in step as they walk now. They walk close enough that Sam’s bag bumps Castiel’s hip. “Where were you this weekend? I swung by your place twice,”

“Oh, I was home for the weekend.” Castiel admits, shrugging. “I forgot to tell you, sorry,”

“It’s all good,” Sam shrugs. “How’re things at home?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Castiel says and Sam casts him a sideways glance.

“That bad, huh?” Sam arches a brow.

“Well, no one had to go to the hospital this time, but… A broken nose may have been involved,”

“Jesus,” Sam winces and Castiel nods. “Well, at least you guys are on speaking terms.”

Castiel winces at that point. Things with his family were rough, but he knew that Sam’s situation was worse; he hadn’t spoken to his father in the four years they’d known each other. It didn’t seem to bother him most days, but Castiel knew it was a sore subject nonetheless.

“Well,” Castiel clears his throat. “What’d you need this weekend? Have an assignment you need help with?”

“Actually, no,” Sam says, holding the door for Castiel as they enter a building. “I wanted to see how open your schedule was this week,”

“Sam, you know I have no life outside of classes,” Castiel rolls his eyes, and Sam laughs as they make their way into a lecture hall and take their usual seats in the back. Sam stretches his long legs out sideways, towards Castiel, and Castiel pulls his notebook from his bag.

“So I’m assuming that means you would have time to grab dinner tonight?” There are other students trickling in, many of them looking as exhausted as Castiel feels. Castiel pitches his voice lower so their conversation remains between the two of them.

“I can,” He agrees. “What’s the occasion?”

“My brother is in town and I want you to meet him,”

“Your brother?” Castiel repeats dumbly, and Sam nods. “Sam, I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I never mentioned him?”

“ _Never_ ,” Castiel emphasizes. “I thought your Dad was the only family you had, and you guys don’t speak so I guess I just figured…”

“I don’t see them a lot,” Sam shrugs. “My Dad, or my brother. Neither of them are very stable, but… I actually try to keep in touch with Dean,”

“Dean being your brother,” Castiel can hardly wrap his head around the idea that Sam has a sibling who he’s never mentioned in four years. He’s had plenty of opportunities; he’d listened to Castiel gripe about his small village of brothers and sisters on countless occasions. 

“Yes,” Sam laughs, “I don’t know why this is such a shock to you.”

The professor wanders in, setting his things at the podium. The room quiets down and Castiel leans closer to Sam to whisper.

“I just can’t believe we’ve been best friends for four years and you never thought to mention you had a brother,”

“Can’t give away all my secrets, can I?” Sam snickers and Castiel rolls his eyes, leaning away and turning his attention towards the professor. Sam jabs him in the side with a pencil, and he turns to glare as Sam whispers, “So, you’ll come? To dinner, I mean,”

“I guess,” He shrugs, uncapping his pen. “I mean, my family is rough… How much worse can yours be?”


	2. Chapter 2

Sam’s not big on red meat, but he knows a good cheeseburger is key to any outing with Castiel, so they decide on their usual bar for burgers and beer. The staff has seen the two of them enough over the years that they already know their food and drink orders, so Sam and Castiel head to a table in a quiet corner and stake a claim. Castiel sits with his back to the door, Sam facing it and watching it like a hawk. Castiel can tell by his almost constant fidgeting that he’s excited to see his brother. 

“So,” Castiel says after a waiter sets a beer before each of them. “Tell me more about this mystery brother,”

“There’s not much to say about Dean,” Sam shrugs, taking a healthy swallow from his glass. “He’s a pretty simple guy,”

“Is he older or younger than you?” Castiel wonders, running his finger around the rim of his glass. The beer is sticky where it’s sloshed the rim, and it sticks to his fingertips. 

“Older,” Sam says. “He’ll be twenty-six in January,” 

“So he’s already graduated then?” Castiel arches a brow and Sam shakes his head, hair flopping around like a shaggy dogs might. 

“No, school was never Dean’s thing,” Sam explains, “He dropped out when he was sixteen and got his GED. Hasn’t been back since,” 

“Oh,” Castiel isn’t quite sure what to make of that. Although his Mother and Father had beat it into his mind from early on that he would never be anything without a proper education, Castiel had never had anything against those who pursued alternate courses in life. “Well, what does he do, then?”

“He does a lot of odd jobs,” Sam shrugs. “He likes to work with cars, but that’s just a way to make ends meet. His full-time job doesn’t pay great,”

Castiel nods along, more interested with each passing second. He’s never been privy to this part of his friend's life, and he’s glad that Sam feels comfortable sharing it with him-- even if it did take four years to get here. He’s opening his mouth to ask a question when suddenly Sam’s entire demeanor changes, and he’s out of his chair in seconds. Castiel turns in his seat and watches as Sam grabs up the newcomer in a bear hug. He waits patiently, smiling at the sight until the two pat each other's backs and Sam leans away and says something to his brother before turning and heading back in the direction of the table.

When Castiel finally gets his first look at Dean Winchester, the man is not at all what he expected.

Castiel has always found Sam cute, endearing. Sam’s appearance evoked the same response that looking at a puppy might, and some part of Castiel had expected Dean to look roughly the same; soft features, goofy hair, gangly limbs. Dean, however, was none of those things; in fact, the exact phrase that came to Castiel’s mind was ‘blonde bombshell.’ His features were sharp, his hair cut short and meticulously mused. He was an easy head shorter than Sam, with a firm build and legs that bowed slightly. All in all, he was a man that any other man in the room should be threatened by.

However, he only has eyes for Sam. His expression was warm, almost fatherly, and in their mirrored movements Castiel could - sort of - see their relation. When they reached the table, Sam plopped down in the seat across from Castiel and Dean took the one at his side. 

“Dean, this is my best friend, Castiel-- Castiel, this is my brother, Dean,”

For the first time, Dean seems to notice Castiel, and those eyes are like lasers on his skin. Castiel notices, now that Dean’s closer, his hair is more brown than blonde. This close he can also see the similarities in Sam and Dean’s chins and the slope of their noses. 

“Nice to finally meet you,” Dean extends a hand and Castiel tries not to be taken aback because that was not the voice he expected. “Sammy talks about you a lot,”

“Sammy?” Castiel arches a brow at the same time he shakes Dean’s hand. His grip is firm, palm callused, and he releases his hold quickly.

“It’s a stupid nickname from when I was a kid,” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dean seems to forget I’m not twelve anymore,”

“You’ll always be a kid to me, Sammy,” Dean winks and Sam shoves him in the ribs, hard, which earns a snicker. Castiel glances between the two of them; it’s somewhat comforting to learn that Sam isn’t as alone in the world as Castiel once thought. They whisper conspiratorially to one and other and Dean mumbles something about grabbing a drink before he stands up and wanders over to the bar. Sam watches him go before looking to Castiel.

“He looks good,” He says it more to himself than to Castiel, but Castiel nods anyways.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

“This is the first time since I started college,” Sam admits. Castiel blinks; he might not get along well with most of his siblings, but he couldn’t imagine going years without seeing any of them. Sam adds, “What do you think of him?”

“Well, I haven’t really spoken to him, but he’s… Not what I expected,”

“What do you mean?” Sam laughs.

“Well, I expected him to look more like you, less… Chiseled,” 

“Aw, shucks,” There’s a sudden hand on his shoulder and Castiel jumps at the sound of Dean’s voice behind him. He squeezes Castiel’s shoulder before coming around to his seat once more, a beer bottle in hand now. “Y’all should save the compliments for when I’m around,”

“I didn’t--” Castiel tries to speak, but he can feel the blush crawling up his neck as Dean interrupts. 

“Relax,” Dean chuckles. “I take after Mom, Sam looks more like Dad. You’re not the first one to be shocked that we’re siblings. But I’m glad that you think I’m chiseled,” Dean winks and Castiel isn’t quite sure what to make of that, so he stares down into his beer glass instead.

“Go easy on him,” He hears Sam whisper. “Social settings aren’t really his thing,”

Castiel feels like he should probably defend himself, but their meals arrive in time to rescue him from himself. Sam has a salad, but they had asked for two double bacon cheeseburgers because Dean’s palette was apparently very similar to Castiel’s. The way Dean looks at the burger tells him that Sam made a good choice, and he thanks the waiter before tucking into his meal.

They don’t talk much while they eat, but Dean is the first to finish and he takes a couple of gulps of beer to wash it all down. Castiel takes his gap, pausing between picking at fries to ask,   
“So, Dean, what do you do?”

Sam stabs at his salad and Dean chuckles, glancing at his brother who seems somewhat embarrassed by the question. 

“I, uh… Well, have you seen the Indiana Jones movies?”

“No,” Castiel shakes his head and Sam shakes his head, swallowing.

“Castiel isn’t very pop-culture savvy,” He explains, and Castiel nods along. “He had a pretty conservative upbringing. I’m working on mainstreaming him, but it’s a long-term project,”

“Okay,” Dean clears his throat, looking between Sam and Castiel before trying again, “I’m… An archeologist, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Well, uh… I mean, it’s hard to explain,” Dean curls his lip as he thinks, and Sam sighs, setting his fork down and announcing,

“He’s a treasure hunter.”

“A… Treasure hunter?” Castiel echoes.

“I hate when you call it that,” Dean scowls. “It makes it sound like I’m some conspiracy theory freak,”

“Well, you kinda are.” Sam challenges and Dean rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“No, what I do is based entirely in reality,” Dean is adamant, and Castiel is still unsure what to make of this new information. “I’m less National Treasure and more Jurassic Park,”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Sam laughs, and Dean sighs.

“I dig for shit and trace things back to reality, I don’t go steal the Declaration of Independence cause there might be a map on the back,”

“That logic makes absolutely no sense,” Sam shakes his head, and Castiel watches as the two descend into bickering for a solid ten minutes before suddenly seeming to recall where they were and returning their attention to Castiel.

“So… You’re an archeologist?” Castiel attempts to clarify.

“Loosely termed, yes,” Dean agrees and Castiel nods. He doesn’t want to ask any more questions and risk another descent into chaos, so he simply picks up his beer and drinks from it until Dean suddenly asks, 

“So. Your parents. They religious nuts, or just really strict?” 

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam chokes on his salad, “Inappropriate much?”

“It’s alright, Sam,” Castiel assures, although he is a bit caught off guard. Dean’s lack of decorum is oddly refreshing, and he turns to face him as he speaks. “I wouldn’t call them religious nuts, but they are very devout Catholics, yes.”

“So, no witchcraft movies and shit? That’s not too bad, I guess,” Dean shrugs and Castiel chuckles a little, shaking his head. 

“No, uh,” Castiel clears his throat. “A little more strict than that.”

“How strict are we talking?” Dean arches a brow.

“Castiel, you don’t have to answer,” Sam interrupts but Castiel waves him off, focused on Dean.

“My mother believes using contraception will send her to Hell.”

Dean laughs, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and Castiel can’t help but smile a little. It’s usual for people to be entertained when he expresses his family’s religious beliefs, but Dean seems equally tickled by the concept as he is by Castiel’s delivery. 

“Dude, I like you,” He laughs, and Castiel can tell he means it. 

The three of them chat for a few more hours about less significant topics, and Castiel comes to find that while Dean is very different from Sam, he genuinely enjoys his company. He’s crass, has absolutely no tact and teases Sam relentlessly, but something about him - or maybe the alcohol, because the thoughts of his family weekend have by no means disappeared despite this welcome distraction, and he might be drinking too much in light of it - makes Castiel comfortable. 

When they finally decided to leave, it’s nearing midnight and Castiel decides he might be a little too drunk to do homework and that it might just be best to go home and get some sleep. Sam is in worse shape, though and Dean has to practically carry him out of the bar. Castiel was planning on walking back, but Dean motions him to follow as he drags his brother to a shiny black car parked about a block away. It’s an older model, but immaculately kept, and Dean helps Sam into the back before opening the passenger side door.

“Let me give you a ride,” He offers, and Castiel doesn’t decline. 

He directs Dean to Sam’s dorm and Castiel feels a bit more sober after helping lug Sam up the stairs and putting him to bed. Dean is chuckling as they close the door behind themselves and head down the stairs, back out to the parking lot. 

“Didn’t think he’d be such a lightweight,” Dean says as they come to a stop beside his car. Castiel chuckles, nodding. 

“Has been as long as I’ve known him,” He admits, sticking his hands in his pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels, the still pleasant buzz of alcohol in his blood leaving him looser than usual.

“Hey, man, listen,” Dean says, glancing at his shoes. His tone is a bit more serious, and when he looks up at Castiel his eyes are hazel pits and Castiel feels like he might fall in. “You’ve been a really good friend to him, so… Thanks. I haven’t been there for him as much as I should have been, and it means a lot that he had someone, y’know?”

“You don’t need to thank me. I think we need each other, sometimes. It’s pretty give and take,” Castiel shrugs, and Dean smiles a little, nodding.

“Good,” He says, then, “You need a ride back to your place?”

“I was just gonna walk,” Castiel admits, and Dean nods. 

“Well, we should do this again,” He says, motioning between the two of them. “You free this week?”

“Sam is my only friend, and I don’t have class after two o’clock every day, so definitely,” Castiel explains and Dean grins.

“Alright. How about a late lunch tomorrow? 3 o’clock?” He tries and Castiel nods.

“Sounds good to me,” Castiel gives a lazy thumbs up as Dean moves around to the driver's side door, opening it and sliding in. He rolls down the passengers side window and Castiel leans in to squint at him in the dark. “Where should we meet?”

“Don’t worry,” Dean smirks. “I’ll find you,” 

Castiel leans away from the window, listening to the car pur as Dean backs out of his spot and proceeds to tear out of the parking lot at an unnecessary speed. He isn’t sure what to make of that interaction, but he’s not sure he needs to worry about it because on the way home he recalls that Sam has class until five tomorrow and they’ll be forced to push their plans back anyways. 

His bed feels too damn good when he sinks into it, and he doesn’t even bother to kick his shoes off as he drifts to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel sleeps past his alarm for almost an hour and arrives to class - late, _so late_ \- in the same clothes as the night before smelling like a distillery. He’s on the edge of hungover, but it’s nothing compared to some of his worse benders. Some of his classmates seem to notice, but for the most part, he goes unacknowledged. His classes are back-to-back this morning, so he’s forced to hike across campus to his next class and sit through it in the same state. When it’s over, he’s all too grateful and he shoves everything in his bag and practically jogs across campus towards his apartment.

What he doesn’t expect when he arrives, sweaty and out of breath, is one Dean Winchester sitting outside his apartment door. His head is leaned back against the wall, eyes hidden behind dark shades and arms crossed over his chest. When Castiel approaches, he turns his head and a small smile lights his face.

“Morning sunshine,” He greets and Castiel shoves his key in the lock as he replies.

“Where’s Sam?” He asks, opening the door. Dean stands, shoving his hand in the pockets of his worn jeans. Castiel motions him to come in, closing the door behind him and dropping his keys on the kitchen counter on the way in.

“Class,” Dean shrugs, “You look terrible, by the way.”

“You don’t look much better yourself,” Castiel doesn’t bat an eyelash at the comment as Dean drops down onto the two-person sofa in the living room, looking around. 

“I slept in my car, what’s your excuse?” Dean chuckles, and that’s cause for pause. 

“You don’t have anywhere to stay?” Castiel asks, and Dean shakes his head. Castiel wishes he could see the man’s eyes-- it was hard to read his face.

“No, and - before you offer - I don’t need somewhere to stay, either. I sleep in that car more than I sleep in a bed,”

“As long as you’re sure,” Castiel shrugs, “How did you find out where I live, anyway?”

“Dropped in on Sammy before class this morning,” Dean informs. “He let me know where to find you-- it would be rude if I invited you to lunch and didn’t show, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh,” Castiel pauses where he’s tidying his cluttered space. He isn’t used to having guests who aren’t Sam, and he’s a bit embarrassed by his space. “I… Had assumed we would move our plans to include Sam,”

Dean chuckles, shaking his head as he leans his head back against the sofa. He looks so relaxed, so at ease with his own existence that Castiel envies him. His leather jacket crinkles as he moves, crossing his arms over his chest and propping his feet on the coffee table.

“Nope,” Dean says after a heartbeat. “Lunch is just you and me. That alright?”

“I- well, yes… Yes,” Castiel shakes his head, unsure where his unusual level of anxiety is coming from as he watches this man recline in his space. “I just need a couple of minutes to shower and change,”

“I’ll be right here,” Dean assures, and Castiel nods, heading for his bedroom and closing the door behind him. It’s strange having a relative stranger in his living room as he showers, but he doesn’t dwell too much on it as the water scalds his skin. When he climbs out he feels like a new person, and a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt only serve to help. He grabs his phone where he’d forgotten it on the bedside table this morning and pauses to check his texts.

There are three unopened ones-- two from Sam, and one from…

Castiel lowers himself onto the edge of the mattress, feeling as if his knees might buckle from underneath him if he doesn’t sit. He hadn’t seen that name on his screen in years, hadn’t even realized he still had her contact information saved. Her message is short and simple, but Castiel hardly notices it because next to it is a picture of her grinning face and it’s the first time in a long time that he’s actually looked at her.

 **Teresa:** _Come to the wedding, plz. I want you there._

No matter how many times he thinks he’s over it, she always finds a way to pour a canister of salt into the festering wound. He knows she can see that he’s read the message, knows that they’ll be a timestamp below the message; he has to respond, but what could he possibly say? Fuck you, and your dick fiance? No way in Hell? I’d rather die?

“Castiel,” There’s a knock on his door, and Castiel almost drops his phone. He’d forgotten Dean was even here. “You ready?”

“Uh, yeah,” His voice isn’t as strong as he wants it to be, but he stands and shoves his phone in his back pocket as the door creaks open and Dean’s face peers in through the crack. “Sorry, I was just… Reading something,”

“It’s fine,” Dean opens the door all the way and Castiel shoves on some shoes before moving back into the apartment, grabbing his keys and escorting Dean out the front door, locking it behind them. His hands are shaking and he feels kind of sick, and Dean - tactless, stupidly observant Dean - takes the keys from his hands and locks up for him.

“Dude, you look worse than before. If you don’t want to go to lunch, all you gotta do is say so,” 

“No,” Castiel says too quickly, knowing that without a distraction this whole situation would consume him. Dean arches a brow behind his shades and Castiel takes a slow breath, exhaling and repeating, “No. It’s not you, I promise. I’ll be fine,”

“What, are you just really hungover? Didn’t think you were that drunk,” Dean snorts, passing Castiel his keys once more. Their fingers brush, and Castiel is momentarily distracted by the contact before shaking it off. 

“Let’s go with that,” Castiel nods as they move down the steps and into the parking lot. Dean’s hulking black car is parked front and center, and now that it’s lighter outside and Castiel is a little soberer, her recognizes her shape. “Where did you find a 67 Impala in this good of shape?” He wonders. 

Dean stops dead in his tracks, and Castiel can feel his eyes from behind the shades. “You know I’ve never met a guy who could call my girl out like that?”

“I’m not like most guys,” Castiel shrugs, stepping off the curb and pausing at the passenger side door. Dean is still watching him a moment before he moves, unlocking the car.

No… No, you are not,” Dean says as they both climb in.

They stop for tacos, and Dean surprises Castiel by paying. They aren’t there long, but they chat amiably between bites and Castiel - unintentionally - makes Dean laugh so hard that soda comes out of his nose. When they do leave, Dean drives them aimlessly around for awhile until Sam calls to inform them he’s out of class and they head back to campus to retrieve him. The windows are down, and Castiel moves his hand through the wind as they drive. 

They haven’t said anything the past few minutes, but as they draw nearer to campus, Dean speaks.

“So I didn’t tell Sammy that were out together this afternoon, uh… Maybe keep that on the down-low?”

“Why?” Castiel arches a brow.

“Well, you’re his best friend and… I don’t know, it might seem weird to him,”

Castiel nods, figuring that Dean knows Sam better than him and his advice was probably better for it. 

“I, uh… I wanna do this again, though,” Dean continues. “I had a good time.”

“So did I,” Castiel smiles, and he genuinely has. In fact, he hasn’t thought about Teresa or that stupid text message the entire afternoon. The nearer they draw to campus, though, those thoughts are beginning to make a reappearance. Some part of him wishes that he could just ride around aimlessly in this car with Dean for the next year until the wedding had blown over and this whole mess was past him.

“Good,” Dean flashes him a crooked smile, “Maybe I can drop by after your classes again tomorrow?”

“That’s fine by me,” Castiel agrees, and Dean doesn’t say anything more. He simply smiles and turns up the music and they don’t say anything else until they’re climbing out of the car in front of Sam’s dorm. Dean waits for Castiel to step up on the sidewalk beside him and they match pace as they move into the building.

“You and Sam are very different,” Castiel says as they take the stairs and Dean’s mouth twitches into a tiny smile.

“Yeah, Sammy was always more invested in books and school work… I liked the concept of adventure more than I liked reading about it,” 

“Is that why you do what you do?” Castiel probes as they step into Sam’s hall.

“Dad was a marine so we moved around a lot as kids,” Dean admits as the walk. “I guess I got used to a pretty fluid lifestyle, but Sam always hated it. He wanted to put down roots and I just… Didn’t.”

They’re standing outside of Sam’s door now, and Dean knocks.

“So you just live your life from place to place?”

“Pretty much,”

“Doesn’t it ever get… Well, I don’t know--”

“Boring?” Dean tries.

“I was going to say lonely.” 

They both jump as the door opens, and Sam peeks at them through the crack. He looks slightly confused as he glances at Castiel, but before the student can speak, Dean jumps in.

“Saw Cas when I was headed over, figured I’d bring him along with me,” Dean explains and Sam and Castiel both wonder aloud, “Cas?”

“Well, Castiel is a lot,” Dean holds up his hands defensively before turning towards Castiel. “Don’t like it?”

“No, no… Cas is fine.”

“Good,” Dean turns back to Sam, shouldering his way into his room. Sam starts to complain, holding the door, but Dean forces his way past his brother. “Then let’s not linger on-- Whoa.” 

Castiel hears Dean’s exclamation at about the same time he backs out of the room, tripping over Cas’s foot and stumbling in an attempt to regain his balance. Sam is red where Castiel can see his face in the crack of the door, and he scrubs a hand over his face. 

“I texted you to give me an hour,” He hisses, and it isn’t until Castiel hears a voice from inside the room demand “Sam?” that he understands what’s happened.

“I didn’t see it!” Dean is somewhere between horror and laughter and Castiel tries his best not to laugh as the door swings open to reveal one very pissed off Eileen Leahy standing beside a nearly naked Sam. She’s flushed, and her eyes catalog Castiel and Dean quickly before she looks to Sam for an explanation.

“Sammy, you dog,” Dean teases and Eileen rolls her eyes, looking to Castiel and signing almost too quickly for Castiel to respond;

_Whose this asshole?_

Castiel dips his head, laughing softly to himself, before looking back to his friend before replying, “Dean.” 

“What?” Dean arches a brow, looking between the two of them before understanding seems to dawn on him. “Wait, what’d she say?”

“Your brother?” Eileen demands of Sam at the same time that Dean asks again, “What did she say?”

“She wanted to know who you were,” Sam explains, placing a gentle hand on the small of Eileen’s back. “Eileen, this is my brother. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Eileen.” 

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Dean says. Eileen gives him a once over.

“He never mentioned he had a brother,” She replies. 

“Touche,” Dean smirks before extending a hand. Eileen shakes it quickly before retreating back into the doorway at Sam’s side. “I’d say it was nice to meet you, but I was clearly interrupting something so I don’t think it’s all that nice at all,”

Sam is red from his face to his belly button, and he splutters a sound that Castiel thinks is supposed to be offended before speaking. “Can we please pretend this never happened?” 

“Oh, no, I will tell my grandchildren this story,” Dean laughs, and Sam sighs, ushering Eileen back into his room and pushing the door almost entirely closed once more. 

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go,” He says before closing it completely, leaving Dean and Castiel alone in the hallway. Castiel looks at Dean, who's still wearing those stupid sunglasses, and it’s impossible to miss the glee in his face.

“Are you proud of embarrassing him?” Castiel wonders and Dean tosses his head back, laughing.

“ _So_ proud.”


	4. Chapter 4

A little over three weeks pass and Castiel slowly becomes accustomed to Dean’s presence in his life. While Castiel doesn’t at all mind the older man’s company, he’s admittedly confused as to why they have so quickly taken to one and other. When breaking it down, Castiel will be the first one to admit that they don’t have much in common. They have different priorities, want different things out of life, and half of the references Dean makes, Castiel simply doesn’t get… And yet, something about spending time with Dean makes Castiel feel like he was a puzzle piece that had finally found its slot. 

The best part about Dean, though, was that he made Castiel forget-- at least sometimes-- about the more pressing matters on his mind. Attempting to keep up with Dean took up a great portion of Castiel’s time (but not his studies, as Dean was oddly strict about allowing Castiel and Sam both time to complete school work) and energy. When he inevitably fell into bed every night, his mind was too busy cataloging every stupid joke, sideways look, and snorted laugh that he didn’t have time to contemplate other things.

One thing.

One message.

Teresa.

He thinks about it every morning when he rolls over and silences his alarm. It has become routine to take his phone off the charger, scroll through whatever messages he didn’t attend to during the night, maybe answer a few emails. Somehow, though, his habits have changed and he always ends up in the same place, with the same message, and the same complete and utter lack of reply.

It’s Saturday, and he’s still laying in bed contemplating the message when noon rolls around. It’s not good for him, and he knows he should delete it, but something stops him every time he tries. The whole ordeal is a vicious cycle of ‘do I’ or ‘don’t I,’ and Castiel thinks maybe just throwing his phone out the window would do him better at this point.

He’s face down in a nest of pillows, phone clutched in his extended hand, when it starts to vibrate and he jumps at the sudden sensation. Part of him is afraid that the caller will be Teresa, but he knows all too well that she’s not the kind to bother with calling him. It’s Sam’s face that’s illuminating the screen, and Castiel sighs as he hits the talk button and holds the device to his ear.

“Good morning, Sam,” His voice is still rough with sleep although he’s been awake for hours.

“Dude, are you still in bed?” Sam demands, but Castiel can barely hear him over the static sound of wind.

“Yes,” Castiel has no shame as he rolls over, stretching out across his bed with a yawn.

“Well, get up. I’m on my way over,” Sam announces and Castiel sighs, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“Whatever happened to lazy Saturday mornings?” Castiel wonders and Sam laughs on the other end. Castiel wonders vaguely where he is that there’s so much noise in the background, but he doesn’t have to wonder long when he hears a soft voice talking in the background; Eileen. They’re probably in her car.

“It’s noon, Castiel,” Castiel can practically picture Sam shaking his head. 

“Fine, fine,” Castiel sighs, sitting up and pausing as the inevitable head rush passes through him. “Where are we going?” 

“Well, I figured we’d go out to the Baylands and walk around for awhile. Eileen likes it out there, and Dean’s going to meet us there. It’ll be good for him to stretch his legs a bit before he hits the road and--”

“Wait,” Castiel is suddenly very awake. “Dean’s leaving?”

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “He got a job, so he’s gotta head out this afternoon,” 

“Oh,” Castiel isn’t sure what to think of the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach or the way his throat tries to tighten up at the prospect of his new friend suddenly vanishing. “Alright, how long do I have to get ready?”

“About ten minutes,” Sam guesses and Castiel nods, mumbling a goodbye and hanging up on his friend before climbing out of bed and wading through his closet for appropriate attire.  
He isn’t sure why the news of Dean’s leaving is surprising. He was only here to visit, after all, and the weeks he’d spent here already counted towards a pretty substantial visit. When Castiel thinks about it, though, his presence had just seemed so… Permanent. The appointments he set for lunches, the way he introduced himself to all of Sam’s friends and made it a point to befriend Castiel; these plans all seemed so intentional, as if Dean was finding his own little niche in Sam’s life, and yet… He was going to vanish, and it would all go up in flames.

Would it be four years before he visited again?

Castiel shakes off the thought and focuses on getting dressed. 

He barely has enough time to brush his teeth and pull a few fingers through his hair before there’s a knock at his door. He shoves his keys, wallet, and phone in his pocket on the way to answer it, snatching an apple off the counter as there’s yet another insistent knock. 

“Sam, I’m moving as fast as I can, calm down!” He demands as he unlocks the door and swings it open, stopping mid-stride when he realizes that it is most definitely not Sam in his doorway.

“Hey,” Dean grins, and Castiel feels that little inkling in his gut twist uneasily. All he can think is he’s leaving, and it takes him a moment to respond.

“Uh, Sam said he was coming to get me, I--”

“I was in the area, told him I’d pick you up,” Dean shrugs. “That a problem?”

“No,” Castiel shakes his head, stepping out of the doorway and pulling the door closed behind himself. Dean watches him, eyes following his every move, and Castiel feels vaguely like an inmate at a prison; he’s itching in his own skin, mildly agitated and peeved at absolutely nothing.

All of this, just because he knew Dean was leaving.

They don’t say anything as Dean leads the way to the Impala. Castiel settles into the passenger's seat like he belongs there, taking a bite out of his apple and chewing simply for the sake of avoiding discussion. The vibe in the car isn’t the same as it has been the past couple of trips; Castiel feels the tension almost like it’s a physical entity sitting on the bench between them. Dean is the first one to break it, glancing at him from the driver's seat.

“Cas, you look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin,” He accuses. 

“I do not,” Castiel’s response is more snappy than he intends for it to be, and he takes a breath before replying, “I don’t.”

“Yeah, cause that’s believable,” Dean snorts and Castiel resists the urge to kick him only because he’s driving. 

“I just… Have a lot on my mind.” Castiel brushes his friend off the best he can. Not because he doesn’t want to tell him what’s going on, but because Castiel doesn’t really know what’s going on with himself. Yes, maybe he had been sulking all morning, but he isn’t sure why he’s suddenly in such a foul mood. Dean is watching him out of the corner of his eye as they stop for a light. 

“Well, if you decide you wanna share, I don’t really know anyone around here well aside from you, Sam, and Eileen,” Dean shrugs, hitting the gas as the light changes. “So I won’t have anyone to tell.”

Castiel nods, and they leave it at that. He takes another bite, chews, swallows.

“Where are you going?” He says after a while, and Dean arches a brow.

“To the Baylands or whatever, isn’t that where Sam--”

“No,” Castiel shakes his head. “Sam said you’re leaving tonight. Where are you going?”

“Oh,” Dean works his jaw before answering. “Mexico.”

“Mexico,” Castiel echoes.

“I got asked to participate in a dig,” Dean nods, and he says it like it's the most casual thing in the world. “It’ll take a couple of months, depending on whether or not we find anything, I--”

“So that’s it, then? You just drop in on Sam, make nice with all his friends, and then leave again?” Castiel isn’t sure why he would say something like that, but it comes out without explicit permission from his brain and it silences Dean. There’s a heartbeat of nothing but the purr of the engine and the wind whipping through the cab before Dean replies.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so upset,”

“Because leaving is a shitty thing to do,” Castiel grumbles as they pass the airport, and he can barely make out Dean’s expression where the sun glares off the windshield and into his eyes.

“Sam’s okay with it,” Dean shrugs. “It’s not like he’ll never see me again.”

“What about everyone else you come into contact with? Eileen, me? We’re your friends, too. How do you justify gaining our friendship and then vanishing?” Castiel sounds more like a petulant child than he ever has before and he throws his apple core out the open window. Dean follows the signs for parking, pulling into a small lot in front of a lake. There are several cars, but all their tenants are already gone down the paths. Sam and Eileen aren’t here yet. 

When Dean stops the car, he turns to face Castiel.

“You’re acting like I won’t ever see you guys again,”

“Well, if it took you four years to visit your brother, I don’t see much of a future for our friendship,” Castiel points out and Dean’s eyebrows lift high, his expression somewhere between offended and amused. 

“Sam knows what I do, and the time commitment it means. He’ll be fine. What I don’t get is why you’re acting like I’ve been spending time with you just so I could hurt you,” Dean’s eyes look golden in the sunlight, and Castiel averts his gaze.

“You made it a point to be my friend,” Castiel says to his lap. “I don’t have many of those, alright? And you’re just going to… to leave,” He flaps his hands around as if some kind of motion might help Dean better understand his frustrations. 

“Cas,” Dean tries, but when Castiel doesn’t respond he tries again, more firmly, “Castiel.”

When Castiel looks up, Dean is much closer than expected. There’s no missing the way the sunlight illuminates the gold in his eyes, or the frown on his face as he crowds Castiel’s personal space.

“Tell me to stay.”

It’s a clear enough statement, but Castiel doesn’t understand much right now. Dean sees his hesitation, and something in his face changes as he moves closer - could he get closer, was that _possible_? - and one of his hands finds a place at the back of Castiel’s neck, the other against Castiel’s chest. He forces Castiel to turn in his seat so that they’re facing one and other, their knees touching. 

“Tell me to stay.” He says it again - as if it’ll make any more sense - and Castiel is finding it hard to remember how to breathe. 

“Will it make any difference?” Castiel isn’t sure why they’re whispering, but he thinks that talking would be too loud.

“Just… Stop thinking, and tell me you want me to stay, Cas.” 

Castiel shakes his head, tries to turn away, but Dean’s hands are calloused shackles holding him in place. Dean is inching closer, and Castiel is caught, unsure how he should be reacting to this-- so he doesn’t, he just stays there, and what happens next is no ones fault but his own.

Dean kisses him.

Dean Winchester is kissing him, and all Castiel can hear is his own exhale and the crunch of the seat as Dean moves closer, his hand closing into a fist on Castiel’s shirt. Dean is warm, and his mouth is soft, and after a heartbeat of the two sharing breath, Castiel finally manages to touch Dean’s elbow. His thoughts are confused, but not disgusted as he had thought he might be. However, when Dean withdraws enough to look at Castiel’s face, he leans away.

With Dean no longer crowding his space, the anxious knot that has been living in Castiel’s stomach is only worse. They’re staring at each other, and Castiel is almost certain he looks like a frightened deer, but Dean disengages himself and slides back across the bench to his own seat.

“Sam’s here,” He says with hardly any tone, and Castiel glances out the window in time to see Eileen’s car turn into the lot, the couple eventually parking beside them. His fingers are numb, and he has to remind himself to breathe after a second.

“Dean, I--” He starts to say, but Dean interrupts.

“It was my bad, Cas,” Dean shakes his head. “I, uh… Misread the situation,”

“Dean, can we please talk about--”

“Later,” Dean waves him off, reaching for the handle and climbing out. Castiel’s hands tremble when he opens his own door. Dean comes around to stand beside him, waving to Sam where he and Eileen are saying something to each other in the car. There’s a wider gap of space between Castiel and Dean than normal, and Castiel stares at Dean’s profile.

“Dean,” He tries again, but Dean shakes his head minutely, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“Let’s just… Not ruin this for Sam, alright? I want him to enjoy this afternoon,”

That’s all he says, because Sam and Eileen are out of the car now and smiling at them and Castiel does his best to smile back even though he feels like he’s going to be sick.

They hang around the Baylands for hours, but Castiel hangs back, behind the group. Dean and Sam are laughing and prodding at each other as usual, Eileen joining in, but Castiel can’t muster that kind of mirth on command. He feels sick, like he could lay down and die honestly, and he isn’t sure how Dean isn’t feeling the same way.

The sun is beginning it’s descent towards the horizon when they finally get back to the cars, and Castiel has gained nothing but sore legs and a confused conscience from this day. 

When Dean hugs Sam, they cling to each other a bit tighter than usual, and Sam looks upset when they break away. They don’t say anything, but Dean nods some kind of understanding to Sam before moving on to hug Eileen. Castiel knows he’s next, where he’s lingering outside of the group, and Dean is more hesitant when he approaches. 

Castiel nods, barely, and he takes that as permission, drawing Castiel in for a distant kind of hug. There's panic in Castiel's gut; he's leaving, he's leaving, he's _leaving_. Castiel grips him tight, his hands curled into fists around Dean's jacket, and Dean turns his face to mumble in Castiel's ear,

“I’m sorry about earlier,” 

Castiel shakes his head, swallowing as he grips Dean a bit tighter, whispering back in the space between them.

“Don't be, just... Stay.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean has been gone for a month and nothing seems quite the same as before. It’s strange, when he really thinks about it, how embedded Dean had become in Castiel’s daily routine and how badly his absence ached now that he was gone. A large part of Castiel still expects to see Dean sitting on his doorstep after classes every day or to hear the Impala rumbling into the parking lot of his apartment complex, but he is met every day by silence and empty spaces. Sam was downtrodden as well after Dean’s departure, and Castiel knew he had an obligation to cheer him up, but he hadn’t had the heart to reach out since that day at the Baylands and Sam hadn’t made a point to call him either. Instead, they shared casual conversation before classes and went their separate ways afterwards.

Every day felt like he was just going through the motions, and the wrong ones at that. He would get up, go to classes, do his homework, and go to bed. He didn’t sleep much, instead lying in bed and considering the pressure of Dean’s lips on his over and over again as if it would help him feel any less conflicted about the kiss they had shared that day. Sometimes, he remembers minute details such as the smell of Dean’s aftershave or the sound of the seats crinkling beneath Dean as he scooted closer. Other days when his inner turmoil wouldn’t allow more than a cursory glance at the memory, it was just pressure; the soft press of Dean’s lips on his, nothing more than a firm placement of one mouth against another.

He thinks about Teresa, too. 

He thinks about the text message, yes, but more often than not now he’s comparing her to Dean.

Castiel isn’t really sure when the comparisons began, but one day he catches himself thinking about the differences in the way that they kissed him. He analyzes Dean’s determination and pits it against Teresa’s tenacity, tries to remember whose mouth is softer. He even thinks about the way that Dean shared breath like he had plenty to spare, and how Teresa always held her breath like she waiting for something more. Every time he thinks he’s on the cusp of reconciling whatever strange competition he’s running between them, he remembers that - for different reasons - he can’t have either of them and he tries not to think about it again.

Right now, though, Castiel is not thinking. Instead, he is sitting in his kitchen on a Friday night with his closest friend, Jack Daniels. He’s just this side of tipsy and liquid courage has convinced him to open the text from Teresa again, her face smiling out at him from inside the little chat bubble. He makes a face at it, licks his lips, and after weeks of debating his finally responds.

**Teresa: Come to the wedding, plz. I want you there.  
C: Ok.**

It’s about as brutal as Castiel would dare to be to her, short of telling her he wouldn’t come of course. The idea of watching her marry Michael makes Castiel’s skin crawl, but he thinks that missing it might be worse. Not to mention, it isn’t like he has much going on in his life right now. Sure, he’s having an mild identity crisis on-top of his studies, and borderline fantasizing about a man - a man - who he’ll not only never see again, but who he’s almost positive hates him… but adding watching the former love of his life marry his most condescending sibling before his very eyes couldn’t make things much worse, right?

He takes another drink and sets his phone aside. His chair squeals as he pushes it back from the table, standing and stretching towards the ceiling. The alcohol makes his limbs heavier than usual, but the weight is oddly grounding. 

It’s taken him awhile to figure out why the last month has felt so alien to him, but as he wanders over to the window he thinks he might finally be close enough to drunk to reach an epiphany. The weight of the alcohol is holding him down, he thinks, when all he’s been doing for the past month is trying to float away. Castiel’s time at Stanford had always been an escape, a haven and a life he had built by himself and for himself-- but lately, the safe little walls he had so carefully composed seemed to be crumbling in the face of adversity, leaving cracks for his old life to come trickling back inside in a way that he does not like. 

Castiel picks dead leaves from the potted plant above the sink, squeezing their rotting shapes between his fingertips. While he wanted to believe that his family and everything about Chicago was a lifetime away after a few years on his own, in reality it was far closer than he wanted to admit. Teresa and the ghost of their joint pasts still crowded his thoughts and he was committed to a wedding that would either vanquish the spirits or give them new life. As if that wasn’t bad enough, his mother’s overbearing religious devotions were whispering condemnations in his ear everytime he so much as thought about Dean Winchester’s face, and God did he like to think about that face.

He throws the leaves in the sink and turns the faucet on, watching them spiral towards the drain.

Could he be gay, he wonders, and simply repressing it for the sake of adhering to the lessons his mother so vehemently preached to him for so many years? He pushes the thought aside; he had experienced enough with Teresa to know that he wasn’t gay.

He doesn’t realize his phone is ringing until he shuts off the sink. The ringer is on low, but the tone is jarring nonetheless. Without much haste, he returns to the device and turns it to face him; the number is one he’s never seen before, the area code just as foreign, so he carries the phone to the couch and lets the call go to voicemail as he turns on the T.V. in search of a distraction from his own thoughts. As he flips through channels, the phone rings once more in his hand; it’s the same number.

Frowning, he sends it to voicemail this time and goes back to his task.

Much to his surprise, there’s hardly a minute before the number appears once more on his screen. While he’s not normally one for answering unknown numbers, he appreciates the dedication of the caller and - on the off chance that someone is desperately trying to get a hold of him - he decides to make an exception as he accepts the call and holds the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cas.”

Nothing has ever sobered Castiel faster than the sound of Dean Winchester’s static-laced voice does in that moment. He is stunned, sitting in silence as his brain struggles to process the incoming information, when Dean asks almost shyly, “Don’t hang up on me?”

“Dean,” It’s the best Castiel can manage as he fumbles to shut off the T.V. he’d only just turned on.

“The one and only,” The quip lacks it’s usual confident punch, and Castiel is finding it hard to swallow.

“Why are you talking to me right now?” Castiel’s lack of filter in Dean’s presence is something he needs to work on, he thinks.

“I was thinking about you,” Dean admits. When Castiel says nothing, he continues; “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know I didn’t really leave on the best of terms, and Sam said he hasn’t seen much of you lately so--”

“You’ve been talking to Sam,” Castiel echoes, and there’s a pause on the other end.

“Well…. Yeah.” 

“Yet it took you a month to call me?” 

“Okay,” Dean huffs a humorless laugh. “I guess we’re gonna dive right into this then,”

“A month, Dean.” Castiel reiterates. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me after, y’know…”

“You kissed me and then vanished for a month?” Castiel isn’t sure why the words come out bitter but they do. Dean is quiet for a long time and Castiel is beginning to wonder if he hung up when he hears movement on the other end, and then a sigh from Dean.

“Yeah.”

“ _Yeah_? All you have to say is _yeah_?” Castiel isn’t sure if he has the right to be outraged, but it’s what he’s feeling and he doesn’t have the sobriety or the sense to hold his emotions at bay. 

“What do you want me to say, Cas?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel barks a laugh, “But ‘yeah’ isn’t it.”

“You didn’t seem like you were all that interested at the time, so I thought leaving would be the best thing to do.” There’s a bit more of the usual fire seeping into Dean’s words again, and it makes something in Castiel’s gut tingle at the same time that it makes him all the more angry.

“Did you ever think that you might have just caught me off guard?”

“I had been flirting with you for three weeks!” 

“I didn’t know that,”

“Why did you think I didn’t want Sammy to know we were hanging out? Why I bought you dinner and held doors for you and shit?”

“I thought you were being nice,” 

“I was taking you on dates, Castiel.”

“Why would you put all that effort in and then give up after one awkward kiss?” 

“What did you expect me to do? Keep trying to make a move on you when you clearly weren’t into it?”

“ _I asked you to stay._ ”

The words are a gauntlet tossed in the space between them, and Castiel doesn’t realize until now that he’s been shaking. There’s nothing but static on the other end for a long moment, and before he can excuse his behavior there’s a soft click and the line goes dead.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel spends the next day in the library, the confines of his apartment having closed in on him throughout the night until the claustrophobia was so intense he had no choice but to flee. He hasn’t slept but the exhaustion isn’t weighing on him nearly as heavily as his failed conversation with Dean. Once he was sober enough, he had begun rehashing it in his mind. Over and over he hashed it, until rehashing it again served as much a purpose as beating a dead horse might and he had to give up. The entire thing was pointless, anyway; Dean had made his decision weeks ago, and Castiel needed to move on from this hopeless obsession.

It’s nearing sunset outside and Castiel finds himself searching out theology titles after hours of studying for a mid-term that isn’t set to take place for another week. He browses dramatic titles such as _The God Delusion_ or _A Theology of Liberation_ and he can’t help but smile a little at just how seriously theologians seemed to take themselves all the time. It reminds him of a time when he wanted to pursue religious studies, and the disappointment in his mother’s eyes when he expressed his fascination with the subject-- he remembers the firm quality of her voice when she suggested that perhaps Castiel was better suited for law school and he reluctantly ran with the idea.

He doesn’t hate law school he thinks when he finds what he’s looking for. He pulls a copy of _Reformed Dogmatics_ volume from its place on the shelf. It’s a new copy, the abridged version that crams four volumes into one, and its cover is smooth, spine firm with disuse; when he opens it to the first page, the binding cracks and it gives Castiel a fleeting sense of warmth. No, he doesn’t hate law, he thinks as he considers the book in his hands. Law is interesting in its own right, but it doesn’t thrill him the way it does Sam. Sitting through classes about case law and criminal justice leaves Castiel feeling underwhelmed most days like he’s a stranger looking in on a world that he can certainly respect, but may never truly grasp. Theology, on the other hand, felt like home; there was something magical about questioning the universe and the forces which ruled it, but knowing you might never truly understand them.

The spine of the book crackles once more as he closes it, tucking it under his arm. He knows he might never actually have the opportunity to read it after today if he checks it out, but it feels better than leaving it on the shelf for countless others to pass by. He wanders over to a cushioned chair secluded between two shelves and settles in, hoping that he might at least get a couple hundred pages in before tomorrow morning, when his phone begins to vibrate impatiently in his pocket. His heart lurches in his chest and he fumbles for the device, checking the caller ID.

He tries not to be disappointed when he sees Sam’s name.

“Hello,” He answers in a whisper, careful not to disturb anyone who might be studying nearby.

“Hey, Castiel,” Castiel can hear birds and a lawn-mower in the background. “Where are you?”

“At the library, why?” He keeps his voice pitched low.

“Green?” Sam clarifies which library and Castiel nods a moment before realizing that Sam can’t see him and answering,

“Yes, first floor.” He hesitates before adding once more, “Why?”

“We haven’t seen each other outside of class in awhile,” He can hear the shrug in Sam’s voice. “I figured we could study for the mid-term together if you’re up for it?” 

“Sure,” Castiel glances reluctantly at the book in his lap. It will have to wait. “When should I expect you?” 

“I’m in the main quad, so give me maybe ten minutes?”

“Alright,” Castiel nods. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you in a bit,” Sam says before ending the call.

Castiel traces his fingers longingly over the cover of his long sought after book, sighing as he cracks it open; he can at least get a few good pages in before Sam arrives, right?   
He’s only seventeen pages in when he hears someone whisper-shouting “Castiel?” among the stacks. Quickly, he marks his page and stands, leaving the book in his seat. It was unlike Sam to display such poor library etiquette, he thinks; usually, Sam was the one to shush others when they were studying.

“Over here,” He whisper-shouts in return, peering between the stacks; he can barely make out the sounds of someone moving closer between the books, and he relaxes a little and turns back to his seat, gathering his book and his bag and moving them to a nearby table. He hears Sam stop and he smiles a bit, turning to greet--

“Dean?” The name rides out of him on a raspy breath, and the sheer shock of seeing Dean standing there leaves him feeling like he’s been punched in the gut. He blinks a few times, making sure that sleep deprivation hasn’t led him to hallucinate, but Dean remains standing in front of him each time he opens his eyes and he feels a slow blush crawling up his neck at his reaction to the man’s arrival.

“Hey,” His voice sounds better in person Castiel thinks before he can stop himself. In fact, everything about Dean was better in person. He’s seen some sun since they parted, his skin an even golden brown where it isn’t covered by a dusty looking flannel shirt. Freckles are scattered across his face, and the bridge of his nose is peeling a bit from what must have been a sunburn a few days ago. Castiel belatedly recalls his latest dig was in Mexico, and the sun-washed look makes sense.

“How are you here?”

“You weren’t at your apartment,” Dean shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets. His stance is relaxed, but it’s hard to miss the tense slope of his shoulders. “So I had Sammy call you to figure out where you were.”

“No,” Castiel shakes his head, realizing he’s asked the wrong question. “ _Why_ are you here, I mean?”

“Do you really need me to answer that?” Dean arches a brow and Castiel notes dark circles beneath his eyes; he looks like he hasn’t slept. 

“Yes,” He says without hesitation. Dean takes a few steps forward, and he’s only inches from Castiel now; they could reach out and touch one and other if they wanted to.

“I came to see you,” Dean clarifies, and even though he’s only a couple inches taller, he’s looking down at Castiel. 

“I can’t understand you,” Castiel is whispering, but not because of the library. It’s like that moment in the car at the Baylands again-- whispering just feels like the right thing to do. Dean doesn’t say anything, but he tilts his head in question. “You vanish for a month after kissing me, then hang up on me when I call you out on it… And then show up again out of nowhere because you want to see me. Do you not understand that every signal you’ve sent me has been completely contradictory?”

“Well,” Dean’s mouth twitches as if he’s trying to hide a smile. “What do you want me to say?”

“Something,” Castiel frowns, shifting uneasily on his feet. “Anything, I guess.”

“Cas,” Dean sighs, shaking his head a little, but he’s smiling as he does so. “How clear do I need to make it? I like you,”

“Why? I didn’t even think you liked men,” Castiel doesn’t mean to sound as desperate as he does, but it’s there nonetheless. Dean bridges the gap between them, but only marginally, as he cups one of Castiel’s elbows in his hand and draws his arm towards Dean. Unsure what to do, he allows himself to be led and his hand to rest against Dean’s hip. Dean holds it there with his own.

“I like men and women,” Dean shrugs. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No,” Castiel pauses, “Yes? I don’t know,” 

Dean arches a brow, and his body language becomes slightly more defensive. Castiel’s grip becomes less static and more of actual grip, now, his fingers tightening around the well-defined bone beneath Dean’s jeans. 

“I don’t mean that there’s something wrong, I just- I never- You see, I-...” He sighs, hanging his head. “I don’t know how to tell you what I feel because I don’t know what I feel,” He confesses so silently he’s not even sure Dean hears him.

“You asked me to stay,” There’s no accusation in the words, but Castiel hears one nonetheless. “And you yelled at me about giving up after one shitty kiss.”

“I was drunk,” Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face, but he’s focused on their shoes.

“Does that mean you didn’t mean it?” 

“I kept thinking about it,” Castiel admits. “About kissing you, and I…”

“Hated it?”

“Liked it,” Castiel corrects, finally looking up. Dean is watching him. “I was just so caught off guard and conflicted. I’ve never even thought about the possibility that I might be interested in men. Not to mention, you’re Sam’s brother and my mother, she--”

Just like in the Impala, Dean’s kiss catches him off guard. It’s a little less cramped, this time, and they’re facing each other directly so Dean’s mouth is more firmly situated against his own. His lips are warm, and he’s squeezing Castiel’s fingers where the shorter man is gripping his hip. While Castiel is still just as conflicted as the first time, this time the shock factor wears off faster and he can actually consider how this makes him feel-- and it’s not what he expects. In fact, as his eyes fall closed, he thinks of the book lying forgotten on the table behind them and the feeling it gives him to hear the spine crack in his hold; it tingles out from his mouth and all the way down into his toes. Dean is careful not to move too much, drawing back just enough to bring his free hand to the back of Castiel’s neck before leaning closer once more and pressing a second and third kiss - both just as chaste as the first one - to Castiel’s lips.

His fingers are tangled in the fine hairs at the back of Castiel’s neck, and it takes Castiel a moment to open his eyes after Dean withdrawals.

“I know you’re conflicted,” Dean says after a second, “But you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy that, because I can see in your face that you do,”

“Yes,” Castiel replies dumbly.

“Well, then,” Dean smirks, releasing Castiel completely. The younger man feels cold without his contact, and he stumbles a bit at the sudden loss of contact. “Whatever inner conflict you have going on, we can work through. Because like it or not, you’re into this-- into me, and now that I know you’re actually interested I’m not going to give up so easily.”

“Dean,” Castiel isn’t sure why he continues to protest, but luckily Dean isn’t having it. He holds up a hand, shaking his head. 

“We’ll work it out, whatever it is,” He insists, waiting until Castiel nods to continue. “But right now I think Sam is probably wondering where we are.” 

“What?” Castiel comes out of his stupor, the real world flooding his veins like ice-water. “Sam is here?”

“I made him wait outside,” Dean chuckles, seeing the panic in Castiel’s face.

“Does he… Does he know…”

“He wanted to meet up for drinks when he heard I was back in town but I told him you and I had a big fight and that I needed to talk to you alone for a minute before I did anything else,” Dean brushes past him to where Castiel’s things are sitting, grabbing the younger man’s bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He passes the book to Castiel, who grips it tightly. “That’s all he needs to know for now.”

“Okay,” Castiel nods, exhaling in relief. The whole Dean thing is about as new to him as the whole I-might-be-gay thing, and as much as he trusts Sam he isn’t sure he wants to drag his friend into this until he himself has it worked out. 

Dean crowds his personal space again, and this time Castiel is more prepared for his proximity when he cards a hand through Castiel’s hair, pushing it away from his face. “You gonna be alright?”

“Eventually,” Castiel nods and Dean smiles at him, nodding, before turning on his heel and heading back into the stacks. Castiel is just starting to follow when Dean stops, glancing over his shoulder.

“Hey, Cas?” 

“Yes?”

“Not to sound lame, but… It’s good to be back.”


End file.
